Dreaming Out Loud (15 page)

‘My work,’ he said quickly. ‘Insurance fraud and that kind of thing brings me in contact with the boys in blue. More spaghetti?’

‘Yes, please. It’s delicious. Where did you learn to cook like this?’

‘In Italy. I was taken prisoner and escaped. I holed up with an Italian family for a while.’

Kay took a spoonful of parmesan and scattered it on her pasta. ‘You never talk about the war.’

‘A lot of men don’t. Another glass of wine?’

‘Yes, please.’

‘So tell me, was the work what you expected?’

‘Yes. The rehearsals went well and there were no mistakes. I still can’t get over how lucky I’ve been to find this work.’

‘If this afternoon’s performance is anything to go by, you were cut out for it.’

‘Tom, is it all right if I make a phone call?’

‘Do you want to tell the girls you’re staying here tonight?’

‘Maybe. I’ll decide later. But now I want to phone an old friend at home. It’s long distance. I’ll pay for the call.’

‘There’s no need for that. Is the old friend Miss Bennet?’

‘You have a good memory.’

‘It goes with my job. Go on, but don’t stand too long in the hall. You’ll catch cold. I’ll brew up some coffee. Then we’ll curl up in front of the fire.’

Kay’s old friend was delighted to hear from her. ‘Of course I listened, Kay,’ Miss Bennet told her. ‘And everyone here is talking about you. Who would have dreamed that when you went to London to sort out your inheritance your life was going to change so drastically? Kay, my dear, you’re becoming quite the star.’

Chapter Fourteen

‘Are you on your own?’

‘Of course.’ Nevertheless, Jane gripped the receiver tightly. She was always nervous when she used the phone in the house, but it was too tempting to stay indoors when the weather outside was foul.

‘So where are they?’

‘Shirley’s at work and Kay’s at some rehearsal for the new serial she’s going to be in.’

‘Your landlady’s getting quite famous. I thought the idea was to find somewhere quiet and anonymous where you would be completely unnoticed.’

‘That’s OK. Nobody notices me. Except . . .’

He came back quickly. ‘Except what?’

‘Well, Kay’s boyfriend goes out of his way to try and include the three of us in anything he plans.’

‘Do you think there’s anything in that?’ Suddenly Maurice sounded wary. ‘Is he keeping tabs on you?’

She thought for a moment. ‘No, he’s probably just being polite. But then there’s Shirley.’

‘Yeah, I know, you saw her looking through the newspapers you’d dumped. That was a really stupid thing to do.’

‘How else can I find out what’s happening?’

‘Nothing’s happening. They’re chasing their tails.’

‘But what if someone lets us down? There’s a reward, isn’t there?’

He laughed. ‘Haven’t you heard, there’s honour among thieves? Besides, only one person knows and I’ve promised to cut him in.’

‘What’s the hold-up?’

‘No one wants to touch them. It’s still too hot. If you’ve been reading the papers you know that. If only the house had been empty, things might have died down by now, but as it is, it’s murder. And that means the high jump for me and for you too if they catch you.’

Jane shivered with fright. She knew he was right but she wished he wouldn’t keep reminding her of the fact. ‘I miss you.’ To her dismay, she was close to crying. ‘Couldn’t we at least wait it out together?’

‘No way. The word is they’re looking for a man and a woman. They haven’t a clue who I am but they could be on to you. After all, anyone who called at the house would remember you. No one in the village ever saw me.’

‘It said in the newspaper that a car was seen driving away at speed. I’ve never owned a car and I can’t drive.’

‘Who’s to know that? Like I said, the more you keep out of it the safer we are.’

‘I’m frightened you’ll go without me!’

‘I wouldn’t do that. Believe me. We’re in this together; we have been since the moment you let me into that house that night. I’ve already got the passports, and the minute I’ve got the money we’ll be off. Now be a good girl and cheer up. Got to go. Bye.’

Her husband cut the line, leaving her wondering if she would ever feel safe and happy again. It wasn’t meant to end like this. When she’d applied for the job as housekeeper at the manor house, they’d only envisaged a little pilfering until they’d milked the old woman dry. Then they would move on. That’s the way they had been living since she first met Maurice when he’d left the army four years ago.

She was competent and respectable looking, he was good-looking and totally without morals. He’d been happy to live on whatever she could earn as a domestic servant, but always in houses where there was the opportunity for petty thievery. Maurice had developed a knowledge of antiques, but they always took the small stuff, items that wouldn’t be missed by their elderly owners until Jane had moved on to another job with another change of name.

At first they hadn’t planned to do anything different at the manor, but when they had discovered the jewellery, greed had overtaken them. One night when the old woman had been out visiting in the village, Jane had let Maurice in, in order to what he laughingly called ‘case the joint’. At first they had been disappointed. There was some silverware and a collection of Dresden china, but not enough. Whatever they took would be missed.

It was only when they were sitting by the fire in the kitchen enjoying a glass of the old girl’s best port wine, that she had told him that the mistress had quite a collection of pretty jewellery. She didn’t think it could be valuable, because it wasn’t locked away. ‘It looks good but it can’t be genuine,’ she’d said, ‘because she just leaves it on her dressing table or in her top drawer.’

‘We might as well have a look,’ Maurice said. He lit up a cigarette and told her to lead the way.

‘Put that cigarette out,’ she said. ‘The old lady won’t allow smoking in the house and she’ll be able to smell it when she comes home.’

‘So what? We’ll be long gone. Even if the jewellery’s worthless there’s no point in you staying here. If there’s nothing worth lifting then it’s time we moved on.’ Nevertheless, he tossed his cigarette on to the fire.

She went into the scullery and came back with an oil lamp. Maurice stared at it questioningly. ‘There’s no electricity upstairs,’ she told him. ‘We use lamps or candles.’

He laughed. ‘This place is like something from the last century,’ he said.

The old lady’s bedroom confirmed his opinion: heavy brocade curtains, mahogany wardrobes and chests, and a four-poster bed. Curled up on the bed and fast asleep was a small dog. Maurice gestured towards it. ‘Trouble?’ he asked.

‘Not if we’re quiet. He’s old; he sleeps most of the time.’

‘Come on then. Let’s get at it,’ Maurice hissed impatiently.

As soon as he saw the jumble of necklaces and bracelets lying on the dressing table he knew that they’d struck lucky. ‘It’s old-fashioned,’ he said quietly, ‘but all of it is valuable. Some of the pieces are priceless.’

He stuffed everything into his pockets and then, taking the lamp, he went over to the bed.

Jane opened another drawer, but it contained nothing except a padded pink silk handkerchief case. She checked it, then looked across at Maurice. ‘What are you doing?’ she asked.

‘Thought so,’ he replied. He had opened the drawer in the bedside table. ‘Look, she’s left a couple of pairs of earrings here.’

He was just about to pick them up when the dog awoke. It yelped and began to growl. Then, without warning, it hurled itself at Maurice – who swiped it away so forcefully that it fell, stunned, to the floor.

Maurice staggered for a moment and dropped the lamp. The glass smashed and the oil spilled, spreading swiftly towards the curtains, and before he could do anything to save the situation they were alight.

He turned and yelled, ‘Get out!’

‘The dog!’

‘Leave it!’ He grabbed her arm and pulled her towards the door.

‘My things . . .’

‘Leave them. We’ve got to disappear before anyone sees the blaze.’

She had followed him blindly. Outside they’d run down the road to where he’d parked his car. As they drove away she realised he’d been right about the blaze being noticed. Figures had begun to hurry towards the house. They didn’t find out till later that the old woman had gone in to get her dog and that neither of them had come out again.

Apart from the film stills and studio shots, Shirley thought Lana Fontaine’s collection of photographs the most boring she had ever seen. It was as if away from her work she had no life worth recording – apart from the earliest snaps. Kay had told her that most of these had been taken when Lana was appearing at the Pavilion Theatre in Northridge Bay.

There were shots of Lana with other young women who looked like members of the same troupe, and also quite a lot of her and Kay’s mother. They looked as though they had been the best of friends. At first, that is. For the happy smiles on the earlier photographs gradually gave way to a more reserved look, with the two of them standing a little further apart from each other.

And Kay’s father was so handsome! Shirley wondered why he had never tried to get into films himself, but she supposed that with a wife and two children to support, he had thought that too risky. Some of the later photographs were of Jack Lockwood and his wife and two daughters. Kay’s younger sister, Julie, had been a very attractive child. She was softly pretty, like her mother Thelma. Kay was not pretty; she was beautiful, with fine-drawn classical features. ‘Good bone structure,’ Shirley’s mother would have said. Shirley thought Kay looked more like her father.

Lana was in some of these family snaps. Shirley remembered Kay telling her that her godmother used to visit every now and then when she and Julie were small children. Also that the visits stopped when their father died. Indeed, there were no more photographs of the Lockwood family after when Kay must have been about seven or eight years old.

Most of the personal photographs after that were of Lana and her friend Moira, mainly taken before Moira retired from the stage. Some of them were the usual larky snaps of two attractive young women, but Shirley could not help noticing that in some of them Lana was finding it an effort to smile.

But then she found an envelope containing a photograph that was quite different from the rest. The two people in it were surrounded by greedy pigeons, with a lion statue in the background. They’d visited Trafalgar Square, just as thousands of visitors to London do. Except these weren’t holidaymakers; they were Lana Fontaine and Jack Lockwood. And the way they were smiling at each other was so intimate that it could only mean that they were lovers.

Shirley knew immediately that Lana had meant Kay to find this photograph, and she knew why. Apart from the fact that Lana and Jack were lovers, Lana had had another secret to keep, and she had done so until the day she died.

Then

‘I can’t believe you’re leaving us like this,’ Violet said as she pushed the hair out of her eyes. ‘I mean, just waltzing into the theatre this morning and collecting your belongings without saying a word to anyone.’

‘I told Jack last night.’

‘That’s short notice. You could at least stay until he found a replacement for you. And that will be difficult now – all the good people are already employed.’

Jack Lockwood’s troupe had just finished a strenuous rehearsal, and most of the girls and boys had flopped down on the stage, trying to get their breath back. Lana had watched the rehearsal from the wings, and when Violet saw her she had hurried over to join her. ‘So why did you come here this morning?’ Violet asked.

‘I’m not sure. I suppose I wanted to watch for one last time.’

‘I don’t understand you.’

‘I’ve loved being here with all of you, but I don’t want to be in the chorus line until kingdom come. I want to get some real acting experience. Maybe I’ll go legit.’

‘Straight acting, you mean?’

‘Perhaps – or there’s always musical theatre as a step towards it.’

Violet paused and suddenly her eyes widened. ‘I get it. It’s that agent, isn’t it? He’s found a job for you somewhere better than a little seaside show. But I thought he wanted you as a singer and dancer.’

‘Yes, but in London! And he said that was just the beginning. He said he could see my career taking off in totally new directions.’

‘So he’s found you a job.’

‘He hasn’t.’

‘Even so you’re going to sign up with him?’

‘You bet. Just as soon as he comes up with a contract.’

‘And what about loyalty? Couldn’t you wait until the season is over?’

‘What would be the point? You know very well the show can go on without me. It’s not as if I’m top of the bill.’

‘So that’s it!’

‘What do you mean?’

‘You want to have a leading role. I’m sure Jack would be only too happy to give you more solos.’

‘This is pointless. We’re going round in circles. I’ve made my mind up. My clothes are packed. I’ve said goodbye to Thelma and now all I have to do is call a taxi.’

‘Why didn’t you just go?’

‘I’ve told you. I wanted to see you all for one last time.’

‘Right. You’ve seen us. So bugger off!’

Violet stormed off across the stage to where Eve was sitting and flopped down beside her. Eve had been watching the exchange with wide eyes. She could only have caught snatches of the conversation, and now it looked as though she was questioning Violet eagerly.

No one came to say goodbye and Lana lingered backstage until she thought the theatre was empty, then she walked on to the stage. A strange echoing silence filled the theatre. Lana stood centre stage and looked out at the auditorium. In her imagination she could hear the orchestra strike up and the tap, tap, tap of the dancers’ shoes as they performed the opening number. Then, in her mind’s eye, she saw herself performing the first solo dance number Jack had given her. She was good – very good – and word had got around. Gossip travelled fast in the overheated world of the theatre. She had been thrilled when the influential agent, Monty Montague, had come all the way from London to see her.

He had wanted her to leave the show immediately, but until now loyalty to the troupe and more particularly to Jack had kept her there. She had promised Monty that as soon as the season was over she would pack her bags and head for London. He had said he would wait for her – but not too long. He told her she must contact him as soon as she was free.

And that had been her intention, until her pregnancy had made it impossible to go on. She had had to conceal the sickness, and it was getting more and more difficult to hide the swell of her breasts. Because of them some of the dance routines were torture. She knew she would have to leave long before she had planned to.

Lana wrapped her arms around her body and she began to cry, huge, shivering sobs. ‘What have I done?’ she asked herself. ‘I’ve ruined everything. How can I go to London now?’

Jack watched her from the wings, and when he could bear it no longer, he walked on to the stage and took her in his arms. ‘Don’t cry, Lana,’ he said. ‘I’ll fix things for you.’

‘How can you fix things? This pregnancy has ruined my life. My career . . . my ambitions . . .’

Jack smiled fondly. ‘Don’t be so dramatic, my love. In a few more months the baby will be born and you will be able to take up where you left off. Contact Montague if that’s what you want.’

‘That’s what I want. But how can I do that with a baby in tow?’

Jack took a handkerchief from his pocket and dried her eyes. He kissed her gently. ‘Don’t cry, sweetheart. It’s time we went to see Thelma.’

Now